


Some Failures Can't Be Forgiven

by Averia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M, Post-War, Prince Dick Grayson, Soldier Slade Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Averia/pseuds/Averia
Summary: "Don’t make that face, Slade. It’ll get stuck," is whispered against his skin, soft lips a curse against his neck.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Some Failures Can't Be Forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> First of my works for SladeRobin Week this year. :D 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **Day 2:** (After) the Bad Guys Win | Sex Worker AU | **Merfolk**

Wreckage still lines the seafloor - metal claws and chains glint half-swallowed in the sand. They are slowly dragged out by his fellow soldiers and seahorses alike. It has been three days since the gruesome war against Atlantis ended.

Ten years of fighting, finally over.

Only, it doesn’t feel like it.

Slade wishes the last years wouldn't exist at all. Slade wishes he had stood his ground when Arthur and Mera first came to Gotham. Maybe then, Bruce and the council wouldn't have granted the royal couple refuge against the demands of now former King Oam.

"Ba-Dhum. Ba-Dhum, Ba-Dhum, Ba-Dhum."

Hands slide over his shoulders down to his armored chest, arms tightening around him, and a blue and golden tail curls around his light grayish one as if Richard is a seahorse instead of a mer. 

“There’s my white shark.”

His chuckle chimes in Slade's ears like the tinkling of the seashells Richard’s bedroom is adorned in, and the corners of Slade's mouth twitch down as he stares past the vast ocean floor into the endless depths of the deep dark sea.

"Richard." The name escapes him carefully, torments him.

A hum vibrates through the water, and the black hair caresses his vision, just out of his reach.

"Don’t make that face, Slade. It’ll get stuck," is whispered against his skin, soft lips a curse against his neck.

Slade's eye falls shut, teeth showing as they grind together. Goosebumps erupt on the patch of skin Richard kisses, webbed hands clawing into the armor over his chest. Fingertips caress over the splintered edges. War left his armor as torn as him.

"Todd nearly ripped my side tails off in his grief," Slade whispers, craving to turn towards him but knowing better.

"You know how Jason gets," Richard murmurs, hand caressing through his hair. Slade never liked that, it reminded him too much of a mother he never got to meet. Now he leans into the touch, tries to find comfort. "You did your best."

"And it wasn’t enough," Slade hisses back, unable to accept the forgiveness. He wishes he could stay like this forever. Eyes closed, the water carrying him, Richard curled around his body, kissing him, caressing him.

But it never is enough, so he doesn’t deserve peace, neither does he deserve forever. Slade swore himself to never let anyone close again, thought it would protect him. He managed for so long, and then the eldest son of his king caught his heart and refused to let it go.

A tickling kiss to his temple, a laugh is all his words receive. It only fuels the anguish. The current seems to rip around him, but the weight on his shoulders stays; heavier than before now that the light is gone. His lone eye opens, tries to glimpse the world above, tries to make out the rays of sunshine Richard loved to bathe in.

 _Don't go_ , gets stuck in his throat. _Please._

“Slade?”

He breaths out slowly, gathering himself. His gills flare. He turns just enough to look at Wintergreen, his arms crossed in front of his chest. It’s a vain attempt at containing the touch he still feels.

Wintergreen frowns at him, tentatively swimming closer and stopping beside him, their arms nearly brushing. They don’t talk. Not with words. And even though the sight is no stranger, their attention is caught by the image of destruction stretching out in front of them. For decades, their life has been filled with wars. They have been foot soldiers and commanders and everything in-between.

War ends, but there is always a prize to be paid at the end. 

Every fallen soldier that is unearthed by their living comrades lets the faint taste of blood develop more and more on Slade’s tongue even before it slowly settles over the valley again, painting the water pink.

“No guards?" he asks his friend, ignoring the roughness to his voice. "Has the King not spoken his sentence yet?”

Wintergreen sighs. Concern edges out his face. “They are angry. Desperate in their grief,” he admits, eyebrows drawing together. “But so are you.”

There is no reason to deny what Wintergreen already knows. Not while they are alone.

“I can still taste his blood,” Slade replies with a hitch of his breath. Every time he closes his eyes, the same image repeats. Blue eyes widening in disbelief over and over again.

The mechanic claw ripped through their bodies in milliseconds. Slade saw it coming, shielded him. And it wasn’t enough. He remembers the shock he felt the second it bit through his chest, remembers Richard's confident smile vanish in incredulity. Blood escaped his mouth before his expression ever morphed into despair.

Then the chain tore the claw back, slammed their bodies together. It dispersed the blood, made him still with fear as the ghostly touch of fingers curling numbly against his cheek registered.

And while his healing factor settled in, all that remained for Richard was a hole in his chest, body floating upwards, the center of his mass catching him in a bow. The moment of realization wiped from his face. Everything gone. Forever.


End file.
